Claire and the Colonel
by Rose5790
Summary: When Claire, who is seventeen years old, gets betrothed to Colonel Tavington, how will she cope? Will she ever love him? Reviews please!
1. The Beginning of an Unwanted Engagement

Chapter 1: The Beginning of an Unwanted Engagement

Claire Greenwells was not happy. She had good reasons.

Even the most sumptuous of foods lined up like a lavish parade in her family's equally pleasant plantation home and the intelligent and personable company within her home could not direct her thoughts from her present circumstances. It was much too serious.

She was about to be married. Well, forcibly married, that is…

Balancing her glass gently upon her palm, her eyes darted about the room, tension clearly etched upon her face. Relatives and friends had approached her, only to gush over her engagement. Claire's very stoic and almost cold stance had persuaded others, however, to leave her be, and now she stood alone watching with a fairly still expression at those around her, some even whispering to each other in wonder at her indifference. After all, the man she was to be wed to was indeed handsome, but he bore a hideous nickname: The Butcher. _How could all these air-headed women think so superficially, when so many innocent Colonials die by his sword, or his pistol? _She thought bitterly.

_Celebration?_ She thought, _Ha! A celebration of what? Her marriage to that arrogant, vile, ruthless…_

He thoughts were interrupted as figure approached her. She turned, only to find that her mother had joined her side. The older woman urged a gentle smile, and held out her hand. She sighed wearily.

"It is time," she said as gently as the smile that quivered upon her face. Claire nodded solemnly.

Her mother linked arms with her and led her into their parlor, but just as they approached the entrance, she pulled her into their dim-lit stairwell, pushing her toward the highest stair. Claire whirled around with a bemused expression upon her face.

Mrs. Greenwells placed a hand on her mouth and her eyes glazed over with tears. Slowly shaking her head, Claire took her mother's hand and tried to fight back her own tears that approached her eyes.

"Mother…I can't do this…" Claire said with a strained voice. Her throat suddenly took on a strange ache as she tried to push her tears back. She knew that she needed to be as presentable as she could for her future husband.

Her mother wiped away a tear that fell and embraced her daughter, "I know, my dear, I know. I completely disagree with this. You should not have to wed such a monster." She tenderly rubbed Claire's back, and Claire noticed that her mother was trembling.

"I'm so happy to have someone agree with me for a change," Claire whispered.

"Yes…of course," her mother replied, "I can't imagine how my heart will ache when your wedding day arrives. I just…I just can't imagine it." She placed a balled fist in front of her lips as if to shove back an angry outburst.

"Mother, I should be fine, but still, the man kills the innocent so mercilessly…I can't stand it", she said finally finding the strength to control her emotions. She had had her fits of sobs numerous times in the past after her engagement was announced, "I just need to learn how to be strong. I'm not the only girl in my circumstances." She placed a hand on her mother's shaking hand, "I just need to be strong."

_Author's Note: This is a story break……This is a story break…..This is a story break……This is a story break_

As Claire and her mother entered the room, two men could be seen discussing the typical adult topics. One was her father, and the other…

"Ah, Colonel Tavington! Here she is finally! My Claire! Come, come darling, don't be shy. Hold out your graceful little hand for him!"

Colonel Tavington was just as handsome as others had described him. With his arms behind him, Claire could easily see his healthy build. He gazed at her with piercing blue eyes while his expressive, pliable mouth was curled into a smile, or was it a smirk? His rich brown hair, although tied back, gleamed and suggested a silky consistency.

Claire slowly approached him.

"Well, well," he said gently, one of his hands gliding out to meet hers, "it is quite a pleasure to meet you at last, my dear."

He leaned down, and as Claire's mind flooded with thoughts concerning his reputation, she slightly winced as his lips softly brushed her hand. She forced a small smile.

"L – likewise…" she managed to say with as much confidence as she could muster. Although he seemed charming, part of his demeanor was intimidating and hinted at a separate and more dangerous side of his personality.

Claire's father beamed at the two and placed a hand briefly on Claire's shoulder, "Well, I shall leave you two to get acquainted. The business of the party at hand must be addressed as well. Come, Margaret." Claire's mother seemed hesitant to leave the two alone. She gulped and linked arms with her husband. Claire gave her mother one last desperate look before she turned and strolled with Mr. Greenwells from the parlor.

Moments passed as Claire gazed into the face of her fiancé, and he said nothing, as if enjoying bathing in her fear of him. He cocked his head, placed his hands behind his back again and stepped forward.

"So…" he said, and Claire noticed that his voice was as silky as his hair looked, "Might there be a reason for your shyness?"

Silence blanketed the room for another moment.

"Please refrain from teasing me, sir, you know perfectly well of my undesirable circumstances," Claire suddenly said, her voice strangely cold. Her anger seemed to blind her from her action.

Tavington's eyebrows rose.

"If you don't mind, I will be heading to a different area of the house," she added just as coldly. She turned to leave, but gasped as she felt his hand clamp down upon her wrist.

"What-" she spun around and had no time to finish her sentence, for he pulled her to him.

"If you wish to speak to me so disrespectfully," he said, taking hold of her other arm to maintain her position facing him, "then at least called me by my name. I will have none of this "sir" business," he whispered through gritted teeth. The angry glint within his eyes was enough to make Claire speechless, and his snarl left such a feeling of panic within her that her last bit of confidence withered. Claire regretted trying to be rebellious, for because of it he had expressed his darker side during their first ten minutes of meeting.

Out of sheer fright and desperation to leave him, Claire forcefully yanked her arms from him and fled around the corner and up the stairs. She ran down the hall and practically leapt into her room, slamming her door behind her.

With her back against the door, she listened intently for any movement up the stairs, for Tavington to race up those stairs and find her huddled in a corner, and then…

She closed her eyes and began to sob, burying her face in her hands. And then, as one wave of her sobs subsided, she plopped onto her bed and cried, allowing her shoulders to freely shake and heave.

_Whatever is to become of this marriage?_

_Author's Note: This is a story break……This is a story break…..This is a story break…..This is a story break_

As the noises of merriment drifted up from the Greenwell's spacious yard, Claire had fetched a bucket of water and a sea sponge. There she sat on her bed, with her hands over the bucket, scrubbing them so roughly, that red streaks became as noticeable then the streaks of tears upon her face. When Tavington had kissed her hand and when he had so tightly gripped her wrists, it only reminded Claire of the evil he had done with those hands, and it deeply sickened her. Those lips, which might have caressed the bodies and lips of whores and harlots, as horrendous as it was to think…those hands, which had pulled the trigger of his pistol, those hands, which gripped swords that had pierced the bodies of so many…Claire could easily see behind his handsome appearance and it scared her to the bone.

As she thought, her mind wandered and she seemed to forget the damage she was inflicting on her hands. Suddenly, the flesh on her hands tore, and spots of blood appeared on the backs of her hands. The sharp pain caused her to cry out and she dropped the sponge into the bucket. She studied her hand and the lines of blood blurring in with the water, as if some of the most alluring secrets to life had revealed themselves upon it, and she burst into tears again. Cradling her wounded hand, she slowly sank onto her bed in tears. She lay there, squeezing her bleeding hand with her other, tucking her knees into her stomach and curling into a ball. The sounds of chatter floated up from the outside world, making her isolation even more painful.

Claire closed her eyes and sighed a very shuddery sigh.

Oh, how an unwanted marriage gnaws the heart.

**So, what do you guys think? I know it's sad but don't worry. I'm also sorry if it's a little short! My other chapters should be longer. There shall be romance and more happiness in later chapters. I'm so sorry that I haven't updated Ruth's Awakening but I don't think it's going so well…I've learned a lot by writing it…I think I should've planned it more, but ya…I might continue it. **

**PLEASE REVIEW!!! **

**I LOVE REVIEWS!!!!!**


	2. An Attempted Escape

Chapter 2: An Attempted Escape

"Are you sure that you don't want that examined by the doctor?" Claire's father's, Peter Greenwell, asked, his brow worriedly furrowed as he studied her bandaged hand.

She quickly withdrew her hand, "Oh, no, father, of course not! It's just a scratch! Really, father, you must stop fretting about the trivial things like this!"

The skin around her father's eyes crinkled as he smiled warmly, "I just can't help but have concerns for my only child, dear..."

Claire sighed, but returned the smile, "Yes, I know father…" she said.

_Author's Note: This is a story break….This is a story break….This is a story break…This is a story break_

The two days following the part were, for lack of a better word, terrible. Claire spent those long days avoiding her fiancé, mainly by locking herself within her room. She deeply wished that her family had not insisted him to stay within their guestroom until the wedding. She only left her temporary refuge however, when she truly needed to, and one of these instances included showing up for family meals.

Dinner for Claire was terribly awkward, and she tried to make her stay at the dining room table as short as possible.

After she had politely tried to excuse herself the night before, Claire's father immediately objected to her request.

"How can you leave the table so soon, Claire? You've barely touched your food! Look at you; this isn't like you at all! You've hardly spoken as well as eaten. Sit back down, finish your dinner, and talk to the colonel."

Claire stiffened and looked to the colonel, who looked at her with almost an amused expression.

"I'm sorry father," she replied, trying to hide a potentially impudent word, "I've found that I have lost a healthy appetite recently." Her eyes bore into Tavington.

Her father and mother didn't seem to catch what she had just implied, but Tavington raised his eyebrows, and tilted his face up at her as if silently challenging her to say something more about him. She looked at her father.

"Claire," her father said softly, "please sit down. You need to eat and learn how to converse more easily with your fiancé."

She hesitated, but finally sat.

After a moment, Tavington turned to her and smiled a seemingly forced smile, "Your father tells me you have an unusual passion for reading."

Claire had been picking at her food. Her eyes shot up to him, and she dropped her fork so that it clanked noisily on her plate, "Yes," she answered tightly, "I do."

Tavington cocked his head and his smile became more sarcastic, as if faking interest, "Well, tell me then…what do you read?"

Claire answered him, trying to hide her bitterness.

This was only one example of what consisted of her time around the colonel.

_This is a story break…….This is a story break………This is a story break………This is a story break_

Claire folded her arms as the chilled, crisp morning air sent a chill up the tips of her fingers. Claire loved walking through the fields and the yard behind her family's home. It was a chance to relish in the natural beauty of the outdoors without disturbance. It also offered an opportunity to clear her thoughts and sort out her emotions, which she truly needed to do at the moment.

There was one tree that she loved since she was a child, though, and she briskly walked toward it. When she had arrived at its trunk, she held out a hand and ran her fingers over the rough, gritty surface of the bark and gazed up into the twisted roof of branches. She then looked down at the delicate greenery carpeting the earth, the dew lining the grass like pearls. She closed her eyes and smiled softly as the voices of nature filled her ears, whether it was the whisper of the wind through branches, the call of birds and…the crunch of a twig behind her?

She spun around, only to be faced with Colonel Tavington, his grin almost hinting at a victorious air for finally catching a moment alone with her.

Claire's pursed her lips and her hand dropped her side, changing from a relaxed pose to a stiff clenched fist. She sucked in her breath.

He walked toward her, his hands swinging back to be intertwined behind him.

"Well, well, well," he said with a great deal of arrogance, "Finally, I have found a way to speak to you without the urge of your father."

Claire's breathing quickened. She considered an impolite answer, and almost declined in doing so, but her reason for her rudeness overpowered her otherwise genial nature. She remembered what he had done several days before, but what more could he do to her?

"You won't get a friendly conversation out of me anytime soon," she said.

Tavington chuckled and took a rather large step toward her. He lifted his face to the sky as if pondering and quickly stroked her freshly shaved chin.

"I really don't understand why this marriage is so unappealing to you, my dear," he answered her finally.

"You should," she said, "considering that I'm engaged to a bastard," she continued under her breath. Unfortunately for her, she had no idea how the anger in her voice made her voice louder than she had hoped.

Tavington cocked his head and his brow furrowed, "What was that?" he asked in a surprisingly cool manner.

Claire froze and her heartbeat began to quicken as her breath did. The anger died away in her eyes.

"What?" she asked. Of course, she had heard him.

"You said something," he said, narrowing his eyes, "tell me."

Claire shook her head, "Nothing…" she answered trying to hide the fear in her voice, "All I said was that I should be…"

Tavington suddenly laughed, and it was a laugh that seemed to shake and wobble closer to the edge of fury, "Don't worry, there's no need to lie, my love, I heard you quite clearly. I pride myself upon my unusually keen hearing."

A sudden silence fell between them. Claire's mind was so flooded with fright, and even embarrassment, that she didn't even respond to the fact that he had referred to her as his "love." The impatience, expectance, and anger that filled Tavington's face sent a chill up her spine, and she realized that now, with a man as cruel as Tavington, that she needed to turn to other methods that would help her escape his grasp for the moment. Negotiation didn't seem like possible option with William.

So she turned and ran.

Claire remembered as a child when she would play in their spacious yard, and that even as a child, she was an unusually gifted runner. She silently thanked her legs for not letting her down this time. Claire sprinted into the fields, and of course, Tavington was not too closely behind.

The fact that Tavington would eventually outrun her soon caught up to her. Obviously, his legs were far more utilized than Claire's. She pumped he arms wildly and tried to ignore the sound of William's feet beating the earth as he strove to lessen the space between them. Was it just in her head, or could she really hear his breathing behind her?

Could there be anywhere, perhaps in the woods adjacent to the fields, where she could hide? Claire had no time to consider a possible hiding place, for an object, hidden in the slender tall grass caught her foot, and she tumbled to the ground. Claire's passion to escape the colonel seemed to numb the pain from the fall.

Deciding not to try another attempt to flee, she cowered, as if in surrender, and began to tremble madly. Tavington seemed to sense her defeat, and he began a slow, relaxed saunter toward her. Claire, frozen in fear, began to feel tears touching the outer corners of her eyes as his steps grew louder.

He soon towered over her, his shadow blanketing her form. He slowly shook his head, and leaned down so that he stood on bended knees.

"Such a shame…" he said flatly as he reached out to grab her arm.

"Please!" she cried out as tears ran down her cheeks, "Please don't touch me…" she finished weakly with a sob.

He paid no heed to her plea and grabbed her wrist and then grabbed her other, and slowly lifted her to a sitting position. He then placed his hands upon her cheeks, running his thumbs along them to brush away her fallen tears. He leaned toward her, his face strangely stoic, as if he was gaining momentum in his anger before unleashing it.

"There, there, sweet," he said in a mockingly compassionate tone, "Don't cry. Such a pretty complexion shouldn't be streaked by such abundant tears."

There was a sudden silence between them again, and the only sound heard was that of her sobbing.

"There was no need to run away, my love," he said softly after a moment, his warm breath running along her cheeks.

Another moment passed, and Claire heard a bird call out in the distance. She wished so deeply for the ability to fly away like that bird. She tentatively lifted her eyes to his. By then, he had brought his face away from hers, and his hands had left her face.

Suddenly, he slapped her across the face, and she fell back to the ground, not so much from the force, but from the surprise. She had completely let her guard down. Utilizing her arms to shield her face and head from hitting the ground, she clenched her fists and released another sob. Her eyes widened, her cheek throbbed wildly, and she suddenly fell into a state of shock. He could actually strike her if she decided to act rebellious. Just because he was referred to as a butcher to soldiers didn't exempt her from his reputation.

In the darkness of her arms, she didn't see him lean over her, but of course she felt him grab her arm, and this time, she didn't bother trying to defend herself. She allowed him to turn her over onto her back and pin her wrists to the ground, kneeling over her. Claire continued to tremble as she was forced to look into his cold blue eyes.

"Now," he said, the hardness of his voice returning, "I hope that you can at least listen to me this time, because if you fail to heed any warning or advice I give you in order to make this marriage run a bit more smoothly, then I will strive make the rest of your life with me the most nightmarish experience of your entire life. Is that clear?"

At this time, Claire's tears had slightly subsided, but she still looked at him with fright in her eyes. She was much too afraid to speak.

She nodded.

Suddenly, Tavington dug a knee into her leg with such pressure that she cried out and turned her head to the side, squeezing her eyes shut and gritting her teeth.

"I want you to speak to me," he said as he leaned down, "Is that clear?"

Claire pursed her lips as the pain bolted through her leg, "Yes," she spat, "I understand!"

Tavington seemed to enjoy her writhing and her struggling, for he leaned down further with a smirk upon his face.

"Tell me that you love me," he ordered.

Claire wanted to take the agony so that she could avoid answering him, but she knew that the pain was far too great for her to do that. She pursed her lips for a moment, as if testing herself, but then began to open her mouth.

"I…I..." she whispered.

Tavington opened his own mouth and nodded his head, as if urging her along.

She shook her head as her own anger grew. She wasn't ready to give in to this bastard. Tears began to line her face again, and the pain struck her at a greater force. It was clear that Tavington would be willing to do this much longer if her needed to, so Claire then decided that perhaps she could lose this battle. She would have plenty of time ahead of her for rebellion. Besides, she couldn't risk the wellbeing of her leg.

"I…I love you," she whispered.

As soon as those words left her mouth, he took his knee from her leg, and Claire gasped and rolled away from him as his hands also left her wrists. Lying on her side, she trembled and curled into a ball, her eyes tightly closed.

Tavington stood and looked down at her, gently nudging her back with the toe of his boot.

"I hope that you learned something today, my dear," he said, and then he turned on his heel and left her to sob upon the ground.

**Author's Note: So how was it? Please review!**


	3. A Chance to Communicate

Chapter 3: A Chance to Communicate

Claire scribbled furiously by the light of a candle, pushing her light sleepiness away as her words gradually built into a picture of her deepest feelings; the feelings that she would never share with her mother and father.

She set down her quill and examined her work written into her worn journal (it was evident that she had used it many times before), running her eyes along her eloquent handwriting.

_She falls to the floor, and consumed within in her agony, she winces in her strife,_

_She looks to her heart and finds no wound, no weapon, and she realizes that her forced love has brandished the knife._

Of course, she hasn't finished her latest addition, but she tries to work carefully. She leans over her journal and resumes her writing, only stopping to work the knots out of her hands. She feels so overwhelmed by emotion, that she can't help but stay up as late as she must to expel her feelings, even if she wouldn't dare show anyone.

Although she despised the betrothal, her family had reasons for setting up such an arranged marriage. Both parties could benefit. Claire's family needed security, for they couldn't afford to be suspected by the king's army of being Loyalists. It was much too risky during such a dangerous time. The last thing Claire wanted was to put her family at risk, and as a result, her reason for keeping so quiet of the incidents between them.

And then there was Tavington…

He, according to her parents, would bridge a gap for them to some form of safety. The marriage appealed to him simply because his drunk of a father had wasted away the Tavington fortune. Claire's family had exactly what he wanted: money, and a considerably good deal of it.

The arrangement made her sick.

Tavington was certainly not stupid. He knew of the Greenwell's' reasons for the marriage, and because of it, he could exploit that reason…how? By doing what he did to her…and unfortunately, what he would do to her in the future. Claire couldn't stop crying, and she had to shove her journal away to keep from staining it with her tears.

_This is a story break…This is a story break…This is a story break…This is a story break…_

When Claire left the house the next afternoon, she took great care in taking in her surroundings before continuing on into the yard. She was not in the mood for another encounter with Tavington.

With the harsh rays of the sun resting, Claire felt only a soothing warmth upon her shoulders and a light whisper of the breeze float by, creating an easy-going and almost balanced atmosphere. The fields before her swayed lightly, as if politely beckoning for her, and the thin wispy-looking clouds dotted the skies like strokes of an artist's paintbrush. Claire took a deep breath and continued contently on her way.

Every so often she would look behind her shoulder, but eventually she was so engulfed in her thoughts and in trying to mentally escape her situation at home, that she soon stopped herself from becoming so preoccupied with her paranoia. After sitting down within the field, she tucked her legs under her and placed her hands on her lap, gazing out into the land that lay before her like an exquisite painting.

The sound of the wind running along the delicate strands of tall grass, and the resulting sound that seemed to hush Claire's troubled mind so much like a lullaby would, caused her to close her eyes, and in her muse, she failed to hear the sound of Tavington approaching her.

"It's beautiful, is it not?" he whispered just over her shoulder, and the rich sound of his voice scared her to such an extent that she gasped and spun around.

Tavington chuckled briefly as her eyes widened, and he cocked his head, crawling slightly closer to her, "Why so frightened, darling? You did profess your love to me yesterday, did you not?"

Claire remained silent, her breathing deep and her heartbeat rapid, as if she had just sprinted a very long way.

Suddenly, Tavington reached out, and his hand quickly wove around her waist, drawing her near. Claire did react to that action in particular though, and she gently, almost politely, pleaded with him to let go. She placed a hand against his strong chest in an attempt to push herself away, but he overpowered her struggling, and he brought his face inches from hers.

"Stop," he whispered, and he did so in such a way, that she stilled and gazed at him, amazed at how intimidating his mere whisper could sound.

A moment passed, and his features suddenly relaxed, his eyelids lolling ever so slightly. His hand traveled up her back, while his other lay still along her waist. He had been so near to her the day he had slapped her, but today the closeness he had achieved was overwhelming to Claire, and she deeply dreaded his next action.

"That's better," he whispered with a smile, and leaned forward to kiss her. Naturally, she turned away, leaving him to peck her cheek. Claire closed her eyes and panicked, deeply regretting her decision, while at the same time praising herself for her courage against a man nicknamed The Butcher.

Slowly, he brought his hand up from her waist, and placed in very lightly on her cheek, pushing her face toward him.

"Open your eyes," he ordered and she complied, hoping that she did not anger him too deeply.

"I don't wish to hit you, Claire," he murmured, "but I do expect you to be obedient. Your disrespect toward me only drives me to push my gentlemanly side away."

He leaned toward her again, and when his lips touched hers, she did not respond to his kiss, but rather let him do the work as he took in her mouth and ran his fingertips along her hairline. She closed her eyes, desperately hoping that the kiss would end soon. It was clear that if she had returned the kiss with enthusiasm though, she would have enjoyed it.

When he pulled away, she pursed her lips, as if guarding them, and tried to move away from him.

"Ah, ah, ah, I'm not quite done with you, yet," he said with a laugh, and pushed her onto the ground. When her back rolled onto the ground, she kept her head up, and transmitted as much fright into her eyes as she could as if in an attempt to persuade him with a desperate stare.

"Put your head down, Claire," he commanded impatiently, though a glint of excitement leapt within his eyes. She did as she was told, gently placing her head on the soft earth.

Claire gazed up at him, her breath shallow, her fingers lightly trembling. She tried to take slow even breaths, and fought to clear her panicked mind as Tavington dipped his head into her hair. She felt him take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of her dark locks, and she whimpered as he dragged his fingers up her arm.

Then, his lips began to touch her neck, almost lightly at first, but then his kisses became a bit rougher. Claire tried to comfort herself in the knowledge that Tavington wouldn't take his chances sucking too hard upon her flesh, for if her mother or father were to see any suggestive markings on her throat…

Suddenly, and as he moved on to suck her collarbone, she gasped and tried to turn away.

"Please," she whispered, "I-I'm not ready for this," she stammered.

"Oh, stop complaining," he snapped as he planted a hard kiss on the side of her neck, "In you situation, I would become ready if I were you…Look at you, trembling and whimpering as if you were in danger…Just be thankful it's not our wedding night," he finished with a chuckle.

At the mention of their wedding night, Claire realized how this situation would indeed pale in comparison, and she suddenly burst into hard sobs. Tavington growled and brought his head from her neck, his angry eyes only worsening her crying.

"Is it really necessary for you to cry in such a manner?" he inquired with a cocked eyebrow. As Claire only continued to cry, Tavington took his hand from her face and sat up, sighing impatiently.

With Tavington sitting up, Claire felt slightly better, and she began to relax. She brought her hands to her face and wiped the steady flow of tears from beneath her eyes and her cheeks.

"Could you perhaps sit up to avoid looking so pathetic?" Tavington asked almost calmly, even though Claire was obviously frightened to the bone. Claire jolted at the sudden sound of his voice, and looked up at him with widened eyes.

After a moment, however, she did sit up, and looked down at her hands as her breath began to come out in even exhalations. She breathed deeply, and wrapped her arms around her to keep her warm as the sun began to dip, signaling the late afternoon.

Something came over Claire in the uncomfortable silence, and she looked up at Tavington, who was staring with a clenched jaw into the distance.

"Why didn't you wish for me to call you "sir" when we first met?" she asked quietly.

Tavington's head turned, and his eyes shone with somewhat of a combination between anger and curiosity at such a question.

"You are my fiancé," he answered with narrowed eyes, "and as much as I want you to respect me, I want you also to feel like my wife. We need to make this marriage…as genuine as we possibly can."

"We can't put on an act Tav-…William (here almost a smirk came over William's mouth as she almost called him "Tavington"), especially after what you've done to me…I can't just live a lie like this…I'd rather live in danger than marry a man that I do not love," she finished with a whisper, regret soon washing over her for her words.

Tavington froze, but his face looked expressionless, as if deep in his own thoughts. He then stood up, looked toward the house for a moment, and then looked down at Claire, holding his hand out to her. He looked expectantly at Claire as she gazed at his hand, as if worried that it might bite her. Not wishing to anger him any further, though, she finally took his hand and stood up.

"You'll live in danger either way if you fail to cooperate, Claire," he responded calmly, and after giving her hand a tight squeeze, he released it, and then began walking toward the house.

**Author's Note: Thank you for reviews so far!!! Please keep them coming!!!! They are like my fanfiction fuel. **


	4. The Ball

Chapter 4: The Ball

As Claire lay in bed that night, she reminisced fretfully upon the events that had taken place only earlier that day. The feel of his lips skipping along her neck seemed lay etched in her thoughts, as well as the feeling of seeming so vulnerable, so helpless. She shuddered as she remembered the lapping of his breath upon her flesh, how she closed her eyes and had tried to mentally whisk herself away as he kissed her trembling lips. How was she ever to cope with such a forceful marriage?

Claire sighed and closed her eyes, but sleep seemed so far away, despite how late it was.

_This is a story break…This is a story break…This is a story break…This is a story break…_

"Now Claire, dear, please don't protest, I already have a tailor coming tomorrow to take measurements," Mr. Greenwell said rather calmly, "you really shouldn't be complaining about a _ball_ after all, for goodness' sake."

"But, father," Claire answered stubbornly, "do you _really_ expect me to go with _him_?" she finished with a hiss.

"Whom else would you possibly go with?" he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I'd rather go with the damn horse than him!"

"Claire!"

A moment passed, and Mr. Greenwell rubbed his temples, and began to pace the room, "You must understand, Claire-"

"I _do_ understand, father!" Claire answered shrilly, her voice beginning to crack.

"I only want what's best for you…and for this family."

If only he knew the truth.

"The colonel seems to be a very respectable man, dear," her father said gently, the anger gone from his voice, "why do you rebel against this marriage so?"

Claire turned away, tears arriving at her eyes, "I'm…I'm sorry, father," she said, trying to hide the croak in her voice, "I'm just…scared."

At that point, she could no longer hold in her tears, and she broke down, sobbing like a small child.

"Oh no…Claire, dear, I'm so sorry, I had no idea…" he said, and strode over to Claire's side to hold her, gently rubbing her back, "don't worry, dear…things are going to be fine. You're going to be a wonderful wife…please don't cry, darling," he said soothingly as Claire sobbed into his shoulder.

Claire felt the strongest urge to tell her father of his abuse, and clenched her fists, pushing her unspoken words deep within her, until she felt that it was instead some sort of pressure building up, threatening to blow her to pieces. She opened her mouth to speak, but her father's voice rang out repeatedly within her troubled mind, "_I only want what's best for you…and this family_."

Claire closed her mouth.

This is a story break…This is a story break…This is a story break…This is a story break….

The next day, after the measurements were taken, Claire hurried out of the room, thankful for the ending of that small ordeal. The dress being made was indeed going to be beautiful: a gorgeous shade of dark silvery blue, but the beauty of the dress could not distract her from the fact that was, in fact, attending the ball alongside the colonel.

Just as she was about to head upstairs, Tavington appeared from practically out of nowhere, his smirk already curling half of his lips. His sudden presence, as if he had just materialized in front of her, caused her to gasp and she quickly brought a hand to her chest. Her heart was thudding wildly in her chest.

"How was your fitting, dear?" he asked, his voice rich with mockery.

"Oh…the fitting," she answered, her voice taut, "I could only rave of its delights. It's not everyday that I'm prodded with pins and forced to hold up a countless amount of colored fabric pieces to myself. And, oh, my fun would not be complete without the agony of having stand for an immeasurable amount of time, of course, "she added with a bitter laugh.

Tavington's smirk quivered slightly, "I'm very sorry to hear that," he chortled, as if happy to hear that her time spent at the fitting was miserable, "but if you would be so generous as to force your poor feet to endure another exercise, I would like to walk with you."

Claire glared at him, but her head turned as she realized her father had joined them.

"I believe that would be an excellent idea, Colonel," her father said, as if answering for his daughter, "Why don't you go, Claire, darling," her father said to her, "I think you would enjoy getting some fresh air today after being kept in for so long."

Claire gulped, and nodded gently, "Alright then," she said softly, "I guess a walk will be fine." Of course, her voice sounded tense and filled with apprehension.

Tavington then quickly stepped over to her side and linked his strong arm around her trembling one. With her father behind them, Tavington looked down at her, and as her eyes bore into his, he mouthed the word "cooperate"….

_This is a story break…This is a story break…This is a story break…..This is a story break…_

As the two strolled through the forest, which surrounded the estate, in tense silence, Tavington smirked confidently and took in a deep breath.

"You know," he said smoothly, "I couldn't help but watch you walk about the gardens yesterday."

Claire looked up at him with a scowl, "You _what_?" She remembered the day when she had visited that patch of land to gather flowers, but she had no idea that anyone was watching her. And then she realized that there was, in fact, a window overlooking that area.

"Oh, what are you so angry about now," Tavington replied, "You're rather graceful when you walk, love. I hope that you're planning to share a dance with me at the ball."

"The only way that you'll find _that_ possible will be in your dreams," she muttered with clenched teeth. Tavington had already slapped her, what more could he do to her?

Suddenly, he took his arm from her and took hold of her upper arm, his grip fierce, and pulled her to him. Claire winced as his fingertips dug into her flesh.

"Let me reword that, love: I hope that you're planning to share a dance with me at the ball _in fear of severe punishment if you do otherwise_," he hissed, his face very close to her.

Claire, whose eyes were blurred with angry tears, nodded, and tried to turn away from him. She hastily agreed to his demands, desperate to escape his icy, hypnotizing gaze. Slowly, the shaking rip on her hand softened, and his angry mouth turned up into a smirk.

"Besides," he murmured, bringing his other hand up to skim her cheek with the back of his fingertips, "There's no need for your defiance…not with the gift I am about to adorn your pretty neck with."

Claire's face burned, but when she heard the word "gift" escape his mouth, her eyes flew back to his.

Tavington released her arm and brought out a navy blue, velvet box from his pocket. He held it out to her, his eyes glistening with expectation, "I thought this would compliment your dress."

Claire hesitated, but finally took the box from his hand, gently, opening it. Her eyes widened and she gasped at the exquisitely beautiful necklace that lay within the box, a shining blue gem, with other smaller, though certainly not less attractive jewels, lining the rest of the necklace, the depth of the color shimmering like that of the sea.

"It's…it's beautiful, William," she said softly, unsure of whether or not to believe if he had actually genuinely cared about her enough to spend the extravagant amount of money he had on this necklace.

"I thought you would like it," he said, "But then again, all you women are the same: as long as it's expensive and pretty, you'll take to it quite nicely."

She looked at him, her fingers running over the ripples of the jewelry, "You didn't have to do this," she said.

"I know that I didn't," he answered with a stern chuckle, "but there are a countless number of ways in which you can repay me," his darkly silky voice retorted. He stepped toward her, placing his thumb upon her chin, his remaining fingers curled gently beneath it. Claire breathing took up faster pace, and her knees were close to buckling under her. Something seemed so frightening about him, even in such a relaxed manner.

"A kiss, at least?" he mockingly begged, and then laughed, "I suppose you could just cordially accompany me to the ball."

He then removed his hand from her chin and tucked a piece of her hair, which was blowing slightly in the wind, behind her ear. The two then proceeded to walk back together with Claire stuck in a stunned silence, and a self-assured smirk plastered on Tavington's face.

**Author's Note: I hoped you liked this chapter! I know, their relationship seems to be getting a bit better, but ya, there's gonna be more turbulence just to warn everyone. **

**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	5. Affairs Before the Ball

Chapter 5: Affairs Before the Ball

Although her stomach seemed knotted by anxiety, Claire could not help but enjoy the feel of her new dress. It gave her a false sense of security, and she strongly sensed this phoniness, but soaking in false sense of security was better to her than no sense of security whatsoever.

"It looks absolutely breath taking, Claire," her mother attempted to gush with a sad smile. Lately, her mother had taken on bouts of depression, due largely to the fact that her only child was being married off to a brute.

"I do love it, mother," Claire replied, "Thank you."

"Well," her mother said, smoothing out the wrinkles accumulating in her own dress and looking into the mirror where her daughter's reflection lay, "I best be off now. Are you sure that wouldn't like help with the rest of your preparations?"

Claire smiled, "Of course not, mother," she said gently, "I'll be fine."

Once her mother had left, Claire immediately approached her cosmetic box, lifting it's elegantly decorated top to find her rouge, lipstick, and light eye shadow. After blending the rouge, staining her lips, and then lightly smoothing the brown shadow around her eyes, she stood back to check her handiwork. Then Claire gathered her long, dark hair into a loose bun, leaving several strands of her hair to fall in gently around her face. Finally, she garnished the updo with a blue, jeweled pin, and stepped back again to review the finished product.

As she was making the final preparations for the ball, the knot within her stomach had only grown worse, until it felt as if her abdomen had shriveled like a raisin, along with her confidence.

She sighed, closed her eyes, and strived to push away all negative thoughts from the recesses of her mind, but found that relaxation seemed impossible at such a significant time.

A sudden knock on the door caused her to jolt in surprise, and a sonorous voice ripped her from her worries concerning her entrance to the ball, reminding her of another. She had another, much more important worry in front of her that she needed to deal with first: the person _that was escorting her_ to the ball.

This is a story break…This is a story break…This is a story break….

As Claire seemed to glide past Tavington, his eyes bore into her in such a way that Claire felt lightheaded with embarrassment and discomfort. She had a feeling that the colonel was probably examining her figure with lust, and in her discomfort, she hurried toward the stairwell, failing to even present the colonel with a short greeting.

"Could you perhaps come here, my darling?" he asked her, his booming voice piercing the silence between them. Claire jumped slightly, but turned to him with almost an aggravated look upon her face.

She placed a trembling hand on the banister, and gripped it tightly as if for dear life.

"W-why?" she inquired quietly.

Tavington looked down at his boots, which were new and freshly polished for the occasion, and gently dug his heel into the floor.

"Must you always ask such unnecessary questions, Claire?" he asked softly, and he licked his lips, taking a gentle step toward her. Claire gazed down at the point of his boot, and then back at him as he approached her. Surprisingly enough, he neared her without anger, like a mother bear toward her cubs.

He then reached out his hand, and took hers, pressing her knuckles against his smooth lips. His piercing eyes closed for a second, and when he opened them his lips left her hand, and he took another step toward her. The closeness had terrified Claire in the past, but now she had begun to adjust to the feeling of her fiancé towering over her.

Tavington leaned down, and softly kissed the side of her mouth. Claire closed her own eyes as to not expose herself to the intensity of his eyes.

"Be good girl now," he whispered, his eyes closed again as he breathed in the sweet scent of her perfume.

Claire heard him chuckle, and she jumped in surprise.

"You're trembling," he said after a moment. His hand ran up her arm, "You might be nervous of the gossip that might spark at these ridiculous affairs, but let me assure you: as long as you're with me there's going to be gossip whether you like it or not."

**Author's Note: I know, that was pretty short! I apologize for the briefness! But not to worry, my next chapter should be a lot longer.**


	6. Events That Occured During the Ball

Chapter 6: Events That Occurred During the Ball

As Tavington strolled over to the far end of the ballroom, where several men were lazily sipping their drinks, he paused, and looked over at Claire, who scurried quickly to his side, obviously self-conscious. He sighed and looked over to a lone vacant chair. It would certainly be the gentlemanly thing to do, to offer her the chair. And yet…

He smirked and began to make his way to the chair, when suddenly, another guest sitting next to that chair sat up and made his way to the other side of the ballroom.

Shit. Well, so much for making the girl stand.

They both sat, and Tavington threw back the drink that he had grabbed as soon as he arrived. Claire, on the other hand, sat with as good as a posture as she could manage and thought back to the carriage ride…

Because they were alone, Claire's fear had almost overtaken her, and she was pushed to the brink of tears. However, William only pushed her hair behind her ear and reminded her of their reasons for attending the ball.

"Though the troops are well-trained, behind the uniform they're nothing but a bunch of insolent sons-of-bitches," he had said, "Why waste funds to throw them such an event?"

Claire was afraid to answer.

And now, she would be forced to endure hours here with nothing to do but eavesdrop on gossip and attempt avoiding a dance with her fiancé. Great.

William set down his empty glass and looked over at Claire, who sat with a troubled look upon her face. He watched her fingers as they fidgeted nervously within her lap, and the way that one would occasionally rise to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"That makes something that the two of us have in common," he punctured the silence gruffly, "The fact that we both can't stand these wretched parties."

Claire cocked her head, "Do you truly despise the ball that much?"

William sighed, "I only come for the drinks, love," he said, "And because if I fail to make an appearance, that potbellied, shit-faced Cornwallis would surely have removed from my rank."

"Cornwallis?" Claire asked somewhat impudently.

"**General** Cornwallis," Tavington answered, accenting his position with utter mockery, "my stuck-up superior."

Claire suddenly wondered why she was sparking such a conversation with William, and she sighed, turning away and rolling her eyes. It felt strange to speak casually to a man who had abused her. She only turned back to him when she heard a rustle from his seat, and without a word to her, he left, crossing the room to a group of men who seemed to be chatting quite leisurely.

Claire wasn't sure just how long she had been sitting there, but she felt a soft tap on her shoulder, bringing her from her muse as she studied the décor of the ballroom with lazy eyes. She gasped, and turned to an impatient looking Tavington.

"I'm still holding you to that dance," he said, holding out his hand. Claire noticed that the band had started up a soothing song that drawled and floated like a cheery breeze. Although she adored music, sharing a dance with Tavington caused her insides to twist nervously.

"Do I-" she started.

"Just get up," Tavington muttered sharply, "What harm can one dance possibly do?"

Claire felt her cheeks warm, but she did as she was told, tentatively placing her hand in William's. He brought her closer to him, and the two made their way to the dance floor. Ruth trembled as the eyes of the other partygoers bored into hers, and she tried desperately to push back any notion of panic from her mind.

"You do know a basic waltz, don't you?" he asked as he placed a hand upon her waist. He smirked as she gasped and squirmed slightly.

"Yes…" Claire muttered, although her fear at the moment almost drove the memory of the technique from her mind. Tavington tightened his grip on her hand, and as the beat of the music was registered, their feet fell rather quickly into timing and their waltz began.

As the minutes passed, Claire could only gaze into his neck, or at his shoulder Very rarely did she meet his eyes. As they twirled and moved gracefully across the dace floor, Claire felt a sudden vast mental expanse of insecurity and embarrassment consuming her thoughts, the feeling of it weighing her confidence down and causing her stomach to squirm with anxiety. She wondered if others were watching them, but of course, there were many couples on the dance floor. Then again, her fiancé was Colonel Tavington. It didn't make him better than the other prominent men who attended the ball. It was just that Tavington was simply a magnet for controversy.

Then, the tune began to fade. Claire sighed with relief, and as he stopped, Claire quickly withdrew her hands from his shoulder and his hand. Tavington smirked.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he questioned her, raising his hand to brush her cheek lightly with his fingertips. She glanced to the side, and found that a small group of women were whispering and staring at her, their eyes bright with curiosity, the look of gossip etched on their stances, their faces. Claire panicked.

She glanced quickly back at Tavington. Her head suddenly spun, and she felt a surge of dizziness. "I-" she began, but he brought up a finger to her lips to silence her.

"Shhh, love," just wait here. I would just like to exchange a quick word with the man over there. Wait here. I'll be back shortly. The band should start up again, and we can share another dance."

"But I-"

"Don't. Speak. Just wait here," he cut in sharply, and before she knew it, he had walked away.

Claire looked to the door, which was situated very closely to her, just to her left in fact. She just couldn't stand it. She simply needed fresh air. Claire looked over at Tavington, who chatted busily with his friend, and then to the band, who themselves were busy preparing their instruments for the next song. It didn't look like the band was going to continue for a few minutes more, and Tavington would probably be too engrossed in his conversation to notice she was gone. She would just try make her sojourn as quickly as possible.

She took off, striding toward the door, and quickly found herself outside. The air was cool as the day entered a young evening, and as fresh as the smell of rain. Altogether, the area outside of the ballroom was quite welcoming. She took in deep breath, and felt so entranced by the loveliness of the flowers and the sky, that she walked closer to the railing that separated her from the expanse of the vibrant green grass before her. Strangely enough, the area here was empty.

Suddenly, she heard the thud of boots, and a voice that rudely pierced the tranquility around Claire.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Tavington growled, and he looked about him to make sure that one else occupied the area.

"William I-"

"Shut up, you disobedient little bitch," he said between gritted teeth, and snatched up Claire's wrist with a firm grip, "I told you not to wander off!"

"William, please, I just needed a breath of fresh air! I was going to return as shortly as I could! I'm sorry!" she cried out as she pleaded with him, her voice tight with fear.

"I told you not to speak!" Tavington snapped, and raised his free hand to strike her. Claire gasped, and turned her head away from him, trying desperately to yank her wrist free. Tears touched the sides of her eyes, and she raised her own free hand over her face in attempt to shield herself from the impact of his hand. No pain came.

She felt her raised hand tremble, her heart thud crazily, but she didn't feel the force of his hand against her face. She finally opened her eyes.

Tavington sighed and brought down his hand. Claire turned her head, and gazed into his emotionless blue eyes, which returned her gaze with a gradually readable emotion, perhaps disappoint, which left Claire with a grateful relief.

"Don't do that again, Claire," he said coolly, loosening his grip on her wrist. Then, he began to make his way back to the ballroom; his grip tightening again as he gently coaxed her back into that liveliness of the room.

"I'm not asking that much of you right now, Claire," he said, the tension in his voice wearing off as he found a spot to resume their dance, "Just cooperate."

As their steps and persona acclimated to the grace and melodious serenity that accompanied the room, they spun slowly, for the song the band had initiated held a sort of lazy meander, a tune to satisfy weary feet from a long time of fast-paced dancing. As Claire stole glances of other partygoers, she noticed a couple toward the corner of the room. They were caught in a gentle embrace, and as they pulled away, the man said indistinguishable words to the young woman, who looked up at him with a look of utter admiration, of love. How she wished she could be privileged with that sort of love. Tears came to her eyes as she up at her fiancé, who looked back at her with beautiful, angry eyes.

Suddenly, they slowed drastically, and Tavington leaned into her, his lips barely skimming her forehead, "Don't cry, I beg of you, not here."

She shut her eyes, and willed away her sadness. When she opened them, Tavington was looking at her expectantly. The impatience on his face had slightly died away, and something replaced his features, especially his eyes, that Claire rarely saw before: it was compassion. As this revelation seized her, she took a deep breath, gazing with astonishment into the treasure of a moment. She nodded at him, silently telling him that she obeyed, and they continued, dancing even when many couples had left the floor.

**A note to my dear readers: ok I'm so sorry that I take so long to update. This isn't like me! Fanfiction is one of my treasured pastimes, and I really want to continue. I just really need you guys to review! Reviews help to keep me motivated, and the more reviews I have, the more efficient I am at updating!!! **


	7. A Conversation in the Night

Chapter 7: A Conversation in the Night

Claire was absolutely exhausted after the ball. She had not taken into account the time that had passed as they danced, and on the ride back, her feet throbbed in protest from her closely fitted shoes.

The short trip home was rather quiet, and Tavington would occasionally look over at her, watching her fidget or pretend that she did not notice him staring at her. Finally, he broke the uncomfortable silence with the raise of his hand. Claire gasped as he picked up the dazzling necklace that sat upon her neck, running his thumb along its face.

"I knew I made a good choice," he said gently, smirking slightly. Claire gazed at him, worried that he would make an unwanted move. His knuckles barely skimmed her collarbone. Instead, his hand very slowly left her, and then it moved to her cheek. He lay his hand against the side of her face, his thumb caressing her cheekbone.

"Thank you," he had said, and that was the end of the words exchanged between them that night.

_This is a story break…This is a story break…This is a story break…This is a story…_

_I'm not sure just what to think about Tavington anymore. It seems as though my feelings for him change everyday. He's too hard to read sometimes. If only I could always trigger his more tender, loving side, it would just make things so much easier between us…_

Claire set down her pen. Her journal before this particular entry had been practically filled with rants concerning her fiancé, but now, she felt like focusing on his good side. She never knew he had one.

It was certainly comforting to Claire, but she didn't know how often these periods of reprieve from his wrath would last. Perhaps he was beginning to feel sorry for her at last. She was quite young to be married, and she could hardly imagine one day being a wife or a mother. It frightened her terribly.

For the past few days she usually remained within her room, pouring her heart out to her journal or wandering aimlessly through the pages of her favorite books. Now, though, she began to feel confined, and she desperately wanted to take a walk. The problem was, she worried over having another unbearable encounter with Tavington. But no matter. Perhaps she could avoid him. Hopefully.

Tentatively, she opened her door and ventured outside, silently treading the stairs.

"Claire! Dear, come here!" the voice deeply startled her, and she looked down to see her mother, her hands on her hips, staring up at her with impatience.

"Now, I'm just sick of you locking yourself in your room all day! Honestly, I can't imagine how you could remain there for such long periods of time! Come here!"

Claire hesitantly came to her mother's side. "Now, could you please go outside and gather flowers? What this house really needs is a nice bouquet of flowers to brighten up the place," she finished much more quietly, looking about the room as in anxiety.

Claire sighed, nodded, and turned to walk into the yard out back, when a sharp, familiar looking suit from a corner of the yard made her cringe. There he was, examining the trees and the willowy branches that swayed slightly in the breeze. Was her mother really about to make her venture outside with him wandering around outside?

Claire had contemplated upon the night of the ball and how Tavington's demeanor seemed to drastically change within the course of an evening, but Claire's overall perception of him had changed only slightly. Now, he seemed like a man with a very loving, though somewhat unstable, span of good heartedness. She wasn't sure if he was trustworthy.

Gently, she stepped into the soft rays of the sun, which were partially blocked by casual mass of gray clouds, and just as she attempted to tiptoe her way around Tavington, he turned. What perfect timing.

Surprisingly though, he didn't stampede toward her, but rather, he gave her a sort of flat, plain look and turned back to the tree. Claire sighed and hurried toward the flowerbeds, quickly gathering as many flowers as she could before walking briskly back to her home. Something seemed wrong.

_This is a story break…This is a story break….This is a story break…._

As night rolled around, Claire stood outside in the mild cold of the evening, her shawl preventing her from hugging her shoulders because of it. The sky looked soft, and at the same time dramatic, instilling a very strange calm within Claire.

She wasn't sure what to do now. She felt restless, and when she felt restless, a walk usually followed. So, she succumbed to such a habit and she made her way around the property of her house. The sun dipped lower, as if it was weary of hovering in the sky for such a long period of time.

As she ventured into the forested area surrounding her home, she heard a rustle to the side of her, and turned her head in the direction of the interruption from the tranquil silence. It was essentially the familiar sound of feet trampling brush and dead leaves. But what creature occupied the forest besides her?

Gently, she worked her way through the forest toward the noise, a slight fear rising from the pit of her stomach. She tried her very best not to let the other being known that she was there, avoiding stepping on twigs and other crunchy objects. Then, she spotted him…Tavington.

She gasped, hiding behind a tree. He stood there, observing his surroundings, and there, nestled in his hand was a rather large wine bottle. Claire pursed her lips in anger. She had begun to think that perhaps he had not turned out completely like his father, but now, here he was, sneaking off to finish off a bottle of wine like a glass of milk.

Just as he uncorked it, and lifted it straight to his mouth, Claire stepped out from behind the tree.

"Please…" she said faintly.

Tavington's head turned, his brow scrunched in an angry surprise.

"What the hell?"

He paused, taking in a deep breath, and stood up, "You…" He looked down at the bottle and then back at Claire, "Did you follow me?" The demanding tone of his voice sent Claire inching her way backwards.

"No…" she said, "I was just walking, and I saw you…"

"Bullshit!" he exclaimed, swiftly hurrying to her side, "You better forget that you saw any of this!"

He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close. His angry eyes bore into hers with an uncanny fierceness, and his warm breath, which would in other cases be welcoming to her in the cold of the night, compelled her to turn away, "I'm warning you, Claire, don't you dare tell anyone about this…I'm warning you." His voice was tight with fury.

Claire nodded, and he pushed her away, raising the bottle to his lips to taste the wine. He only sipped it though. Claire could see his glistening lips in the moonlight, and the steady heave of his breathing. Now that Claire had obeyed, he didn't seem to mind her presence, and he sat back down at the foot of a nearby tree.

After a moment of silence, Claire desperately wanted to turn back, but in fear that her fiancé might be angered at her leave, she continued to stand there.

"It's not you," he said after another moment passed on, "I don't do this…because of you." His eyes calmed and his clenched fists loosened. He hadn't taken another sip since his last one in front of her, and she began to wonder if he felt uncomfortable drinking in front of her in such a way.

Claire sniffled, and she suddenly felt tears slip from her eyes, "It's…it's fine if you tell the truth…that I'm the reason you drink like this…" She couldn't help herself, he had only had a small drink, so he wasn't drunk yet.

Tavington gazed up at her with distant eyes as she allowed her tears to slide down her cheeks.

"Sit down," he said flatly, "I might as well have someone here to keep me company."

Claire slowly walked to his side, and sat down beside him.

Setting down the bottle, he placed his other hand under her chin and turned her face toward his.

"Do you realize the duties that accompany me in my position, and how much pressure my career gives me from day to day?" he said in slightly irritated murmur.

Claire nodded, and looked into his eyes, "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I should have really considered that."

They sat there, looking into the eyes of the other, until Tavington released her chin, and her head slowly turned back toward something in the distance. Suddenly, she felt his breath on the side of her face, and she stiffened. He softly pressed his lips against her cheek, and then tucked her hair that was falling into her face behind her ear. When her neck and ear was exposed, he began to caress her ear with his lips, his hand playing with the ends of her long hair, while the other hand gently touched her arm. He then moved down to her jaw line, where he pressed his mouth along it, skimming her cheek with his nose. When his mouth had traveled closer to her lips, he paused, and allowed his lips to linger there, as if hesitant to kiss her mouth. His eyes closed, and he remained there for a moment, his lips resting gently. Claire heard the sound of a cricket in the distance. She suddenly felt at ease, and her body relaxed as his fingers emanated warmth to her arms.

Finally, he pulled away, and brought the wine bottle up for another sip. Minutes passed, and Claire sat there in silence, listening to the wind whistle softly through the branches of the trees and her heart, which was thudding softly against her chest.

"I'm sorry," he said, extending the hand holding the wine bottle to Claire, "Did you want any?"

Claire shook her head, wiping away the lingering dampness that a tear had left behind on the bottom of her cheek.

"Well, in that case…" he said, his voice sounding strangely weary, "If you're not willing to immerse yourself in drunkenness with me, I suggest you go to bed. It's late."

Claire stood up, slightly dazed from what had happened, and muttered a short goodnight to her fiancé before walking off. She felt anxious to get to her room. It seemed wondrous, the moment shared between them there. Many other times when he had moved close to her to kiss her, she would have tried to move away. This time combined with that particular moment between them before the ball had begun to show her that perhaps she was growing used to him, or rather that…she was beginning to love him. She desperately wanted to please him to avoid a terrible marriage and at the same time the idea disgusted her as she looked back at how much he had hurt her. Either way she perceived it, the thought simply terrified her.

**Author's Note:** **Ok, how was that? I'm so, so sorry for the large gaps of time between updating and I don't want to give an excuse. I'm sorry, guys. And not to worry, your reviews last chapters were amazing and they brighten my day and keep me wanting to write more. Without your reviews, I wouldn't have the motivation to write anymore. So I thank every one of you that reviewed from the bottom of my heart! And…uh…. would you guys, whether you've reviewed in the past or have never reviewed my story, please review? I really appreciate it! **


	8. Things are Uncertain

Chapter 8: Things are Uncertain

When Claire awoke the next morning, she felt strangely refreshed. She had sat up, and all the memories from the night before struck her. What a strange event. She could hardly believe it still. And yet, at the same time, it was believable. Perhaps her attraction to his physical being had gotten the better of her. He really was quite handsome, she reminded herself, but she shook her mind of her logic, for it was merely superficial.

Then, she had dressed and gone downstairs for breakfast, barely tasting her food. Everything seemed to be cast with a newer, brighter shade of hope. For the first time since she had met her fiancé, she felt a gentle sense of longing to see him when he departed to face his duties as colonel. She actually vaguely hoped that he was safe.

…………………………………………………………………………….

Several days passed.

Claire groaned at the harshness of the morning light, turning her head away from her window. It was no use. She could walk over to the window and close it, then return to bed, but what would be the point of it anyway? She might as well get up and greet the day.

Suddenly, a knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts and she looked to the door in surprise.

"Claire? Darling, it's me. Are you decent?" her mother's fear-filled voice rang out from outside.

The tension in her mother's voice immediately frightened her. What had happened?

"Come in, mother," Claire answered nervously.

Her mother entered, her spindly fingers trembling, and sat down on t he edge of Claire's bed.

"I can't believe this is happening," her mother said, shaking her head.

"What is it, mother?"

Mrs. Greenwell handed her daughter a newsletter, which was folded up tightly, as if her mother had been too horrified to reread it, and Claire took it tentatively from her.

"What is it?"

Her mother looked away, and she began to gently shake. When she finally averted her eyes back to her, Claire could see tears slipping from her eyes.

"You have a right to know this, my dearest, dearest daughter," she murmured, placing a hand on Claire's still shoulder. Claire reached up to hold the hand, but her mother pulled away, and stood.

"Mother?"

"I – I think that I should leave you be to read this," she answered with a sob, and turned away to exit the room.

Claire gazed at the closed door her mother left behind in sort of terrified wonder. What could possibly be so shocking within the newsletter? She wouldn't find out just by fearing the document in her lap, so she lifted it, and opened it slowly…

Claire reread it again and again, possibly to make sure that what she was reading was actually there. Her hands began to shake in fury, and she chucked the letter away, closing her eyes to control her tears.

How could he do this?

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Claire had gotten ready for the day in a trance. Just when she thought his more merciful side actually existed, she was abruptly reminded of the reason why she despised her marriage with him so deeply in the first place. It made her sick. She had almost overlooked the fact that he was still The Butcher. None of that had changed. None of it. She realized that no amount of kisses or sweet words could erase or rectify it.

She suddenly wanted to punch something. Or throw something.

She paced the room, her eyes set on the floor.

She had to escape this – this just wasn't right. Even her father, whom she constantly had looked up to, was pressuring her into this marriage. And how could he refuse it? He had no choice. His wealth had cornered him into this decision. Her mother, on the other hand – Claire couldn't imagine how this marriage would harm her. She would possibly be in a state of perpetual grief for the rest of her life. Although this marriage would keep her family safe, she on the other hand, would be forced to walk on glass as she tried to avoid his wrath for years…and if she had children, they would possibly be forced to do the same.

She suddenly stopped. Then, she walked to the corner, and sat down, bringing her knees up to her chest. She felt as helpless as a sparrow with a wing torn off. How would she be able to survive this marriage?

Little did she know, there was going to be more distress, more fear, and more terror to follow.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Claire finally found the courage to leave her room, and as she slowly made her way downstairs, she found her father making his own way upstairs.

"Claire, my dear, look at you…what ever happened? It looks as if you've seen a ghost!"

"I – I think I just have," Claire answered almost in a stupor.

She continued down the stairwell, ignoring her father's baffled expression. He opened his mouth to give her another piece of news, but shrugged his shoulders and resumed his walking. He could tell her later. What he didn't know was that he didn't need to.

When she had reached the spacious area of the bottom floor, she gazed out into the yard. It never seemed so inviting, and she had kept herself inside for a quite a while. Perhaps what she needed now was a bit of fresh air. She needed to think.

Just as she began to make her way toward the door, a figure walked into view, and she gasped, stepping back as Tavington blocked her way, grinning softly. She grimaced, for she could right there imagine him with his clothes soaked with blood, a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other…

"What's wrong now, Claire? Are you not happy to see me?" he asked, his voice soaked in a phony charm.

"I need to be alone right now," she answered softly, and with her head down, she attempted to walk past him, but he grabbed her upper arm gently, and pulled her in front of him. She struggled slightly, gazing pleadingly into his gorgeous, gleaming eyes.

"I was hoping to see you," Tavington said, his tone irked, "in a better mood. I would like to have a word with you."

"It can wait," Claire retorted impatiently, "I just need to be alone," she repeated in a much angrier manner.

"Tsk, tsk, such a stubborn girl. Now come on, I haven't got all day."

Tavington stepped out into the sunlight with Claire at his side, and practically dragged her into the forest surrounding the home.

"What do you want with me?" Claire demanded, as they found the trails. Although she was angry, fear lingered in the pit of her stomach.

Tavington spun toward her and grabbed her other wrist, "I'm simply trying to inform you of something that's really quite important. It's something that's going to alter practically the rest of our time unwed. Now don't spur my impatience, Claire. Listen to me," he answered, his teeth gritted.

Claire looked up at him wide-eyed, trying to find the compassion that resided there only several days ago. He sighed angrily and pulled her along the trail for a while longer until the path ended, and a small, grassy hill came into view. Claire remembered sitting there as a child, picking at the small flowers and linking them together to make bracelets.

He guided her forcefully to the hillside and sat down. Claire tried to pull away from his grasp, but he only pulled her onto his lap, chuckling in a nefarious manner as she wriggled wildly, pressing her hands against his chest. How could he treat her like this, like she was some sort of doll? Finally, in her exhaustion, she stilled, her face turned to the side, her legs thrown out of his lap.

"Why do you always try when you should know that your attempts are futile?" he whispered in her ear, "Are you simply trying to anger me?"

Claire did not respond. He placed his hand upon her waist, his thumb running along her ribcage. She lifted her head slowly, her eyes quickly meeting his. Claire could feel the seconds drag by as William gazed into her anxious face. She could see by the slight changes in his face that he picking through options in his mind, and she had no idea what to do or say.

"I don't need to punish you," he finally said softly, and he leaned forward, his eyes closed, catching her lips in his. Claire swiftly pulled away, disgusted, and without thinking she slapped him hard across the face.

Stumbling backward, she crawled away from him, her hands covering her mouth in surprise. Now she had really asked for it. Tavington didn't move for a second, but when he did, he was quick and agile. He stood, practically leapt to her side, grabbed her arm, and pulled her up so that she stood. He yanked her so close to him, that she could smell the pomade in his hair.

"I'm going to warn you now, Claire," he said suddenly, "that I have been rather merciful. But once our marriage has been affirmed by word, you're going to have to affirm our marriage by giving your body fully to me. And because you will officially be mine, I want none of your resistance. I have been too kind to you. If I find that on our wedding night you protest, then I'm not going to hold back. I don't care if your tears are plentiful. You are to do as you're told. You might as well do your best to adjust to a kiss…"

Claire simply looked up at him with a look of sheer revulsion.

"Now," he said, his anger slightly receding. He brought a hand up to touch her cheek, but she flinched, "to the matter of business. It has been agreed between your father and I that we need to…connect. In two days," he said, a sort of victorious smirk creeping onto his flushed face, "you will be traveling with me to my assigned fort and will be staying with me until a short time before the wedding, for the sake of convenient preparations…"

"W – what?" she barely murmured in disbelief in such an outrageous demand.

"Don't make me repeat myself, my love," he replied, "You heard me clearly."

"You – you can't! This isn't right! I need to be here with my parents! I need to be home!" she exclaimed, her head rushing with the bleakness of possibilities. How could her father allow him to take her away when she needed the comfort and support of her mother?

"Stop it, Claire!" he retorted sharply, drawing her nearer, "What the _hell_ has gotten into you? It was only several days ago that you seemed to tolerate me, and now this? How bad can this possibly be? And don't worry," he continued, bitterly sarcastic, "I'm not making all of your precious servants and maids accompany us."

Claire gazed up at him, fright replacing her disgust, and even in her fearful state, Tavington raised his fist, and struck her upon her shoulder. Claire cried out as the pain rippled through her back and she collapsed, holding the wounded area with her left hand. Tavington got down on bended knee and reached out to place a hand on the side of Claire's face, "That's for the little attempted defense you almost got away with earlier," he said wryly.

He allowed her a moment to overcome her pain, and then his arm wound itself around her waist and he lifted her, "Get up, Claire, you can rest when you get home," he replied to her whimper as he forced her to stand, "Or cry if you need to, I suppose. But if you shed a tear in front of your dear father, I'll have to consider a more dire punishment."

What could he possibly do to her now?

…………………………………………………………………………………..

After dinner, Claire went straight to her room. She couldn't stand sitting there, hearing her father repeat what Tavington had told her. Her mother simply sat there, her eye twitching, barely poking at her food. Claire almost vomited onto her plate, and frankly, she wished she had.

She tried combing her hair or writing in her journal to take her mind away from the matter at hand, but it hardly helped her. Jotting her thoughts down only helped her to release anger and bitterness, but it could do nothing to help her forget her situation. Finally, as her weariness took over, she slipped into bed, pulling the blanket over her. She found her eyes drawn to the large gaping expanse of the moon, which shone exceptionally bright that night. She also noticed that tonight, the moon was accompanied by a rather large entourage of stars. There were hardly any clouds there, suppressing their vibrant lights. It was just the moon and the stars. But then again, even on a cloudy night, Claire could make out the stars there, winking steadily, as if saying, "_Don't worry, we're not going to let those pesky clouds chase us away_."

Claire narrowed her eyes and contemplated this for a moment. Perhaps that's what she needed to do right now. Maybe she just needed to look a bit harder to find her stars.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

**Author's Note:** Okay how was that? So sorry for the large gap of time before updating, but I had a bit of writer's block plus the end of school and now I have summer school and guitar lessons.

Let this be a lesson to anyone who thinks of slacking in school!!! Don't do it!!! Not unless you wanna do a shitload of homework over your precious summer break and wish that you had actually paid attention in math or had actually done the study guides for history a couple days before instead of the night before and having to post freaking bulletins on Myspace asking people for a completed study guide (which I managed to successfully do although I would not recommend it lol)!!!

It's pretty hectic. But anyways, thanks **simon22cat** and **SteeleRanger** for bringing to my attention my really lazy and unprofessional story breaks. I think these are much better! Also, **SteeleRanger **you left me a very thorough comment thank you kindly!!! But don't worry everyone who has reviewed has left me smiling please keep them coming!!!


	9. The Arrival

**Chapter 9: The Arrival**

**Author's Note:** Hey, I'm sorry if my last chappie was a bit messy and not-so-good. I was writing it late at night so maybe that's why lol. Anyways, I edited it a bit so if you wish to reread it, I think it's better.

**Another Note:** Ok, I really, really love music. A lot. And you know what I noticed? Sullen Girl by Fiona Apple goes really well with this part of the story. Her voice is so pretty. If you guys haven't heard her album Tidal, you should listen to it. It really is amazing.

Fort Carolina was a glorious structure complete with moderately comfortable rooms for its soldiers and a generous supply of necessities readily available. It was situated in a lush forest surrounded by the quaint teem of wildlife and the trickle of meandering streams. A sturdy gate embraced the fort, granting its visitors safety.

Even so, Claire was not looking forward to it. Not one bit.

After being informed from the newsletter of another one of William's dastardly actions in battle, her fear and resentment toward her fiancé significantly increased. While the servants hurriedly packed her bags in response to such last-minute travel plans, Claire buried her nose in a book or scribbled in her journal, trying to calm herself for such a strange and cruel journey. She desperately hoped that she would find herself looking up at her ceiling one moment to find that all Tavington had said was simply part of a very long nightmare. She had to face it though; after he had struck her shoulder, it reminded her that this was in fact part of her very cold reality.

"Claire, dear," her mother said soothingly as Claire sobbed into her pillow, "I know that this is difficult, but I've come to realize that this is the way things are. We can't change what has happened and what has been decided. We can only move forward with dignity and strength. Women are strong. Men may say otherwise, but it's clear that even through everything a women is forced to endure, we may choose to unleash a force that is unstoppable, that stirs wonder and respect. I know strength when I see it. There have been many girls coerced into your situation. But don't you see, Claire? They bear their children and develop the most beautiful of bonds with them, sharing a motherly tenderness that is quite hard to match. Many learn to love their husbands."

Her mother stroked her hair, "We're going to make it through, Claire. Now, I just need you to know that _you're_ going to make it through."

Claire finally lifted her head and looked into her mother's face. She sniffled. Sighing, she wiped her nose with the handkerchief that her mother handed her.

"I – I think I can make it through…"

Could she actually live up to her words, though?

……………………………………………………..

The day came much too quickly, and before she knew it, she was outside awaiting her carriage with her mother and father at her side. Mary Anne, a servant of the family, hauled out the last of her luggage and retreated quickly into the house to leave Claire to say goodbye to her parents. As her baggage was loaded into the carriage, the family exchanged their departing wishes.

"William claims that your accommodations should be to your liking, dear," her father said gently as he held her in a warm embrace, "Don't worry, Claire, my darling, if you gain a bit of homesickness, just write to us…You're expected to write to us anyway, though, you do know that, don't you?" He finished by tapping her nose softly with his finger. This pushed a small smile from Claire.

"Yes, father, I shall write," Claire replied, leaning her head against his shoulder.

She then embraced her mother, and turned back to the carriage, which was now ready to depart. She climbed in, sat, and waved to her parents, who looked back at her with looks of sadness and perhaps hope. She could only hope along with her parents that this journey, instead of tearing the young girl farther away from Tavington, might bring her a bit closer to him.

Her mother turned away for a moment as tears twinkled in her eyes, but she turned back quickly, possibly as she remembered her statement to her daughter the day before advising her to be as courageous as she possibly could. Her father wrapped a reassuring arm around his wife's shoulder.

The carriage began its leave and Claire turned around and gazed at her parents, the steady trot of the horses clapping the road, until a bend in the road took her vision away from her family.

………………………………………………………

When Fort Carolina finally came into view, Claire began to tremble and she felt that familiar ache in within her stomach that was brought by that cruel feeling of anxiety. Throughout the carriage ride, she had tried to push away her nervousness, but with little avail. Now, she could expect a meeting with her fiancé, and then perhaps, he would introduce her to the various officers and military personnel of the fort.

The carriage stopped, and the driver hopped off to retrieve her luggage.

She sat there, closed her eyes, and tried to drift away.

…………………………………………………………

Tavington stood there in a rather arrogant manner, his eyes gazing down at her with a sort of frightening strength. As she walked toward her fiancé, he offered her his hand stiffly and tentatively, she took it. The driver came up behind her at that moment and gestured toward the other personnel to assist in taking the rest of the luggage.

"Why don't I escort my fiancé to my superior's office. You can bring her belongings to her accommodations?"

The assistant nodded and walked off, leaving Tavington to grab her arm and pull her closely to his side.

"Don't you dare try anything out-of-line," he hissed over her head, assuming that she would hear without him leaning into her, "I already have enough on my plate at the moment."

Claire didn't bother answering him. She would obey.

……………………………………………………………..

The luxurious and opulent setting surrounding Claire within the office of Cornwallis did nothing to calm Claire. As they entered, Tavington released her arm and instead distanced himself from her. Claire's eyes flew about the room, taking in the magnificent artifacts adorning the desk and the intricacy and detailed designs of the carved desk. There sat a pudgy man, his powdered wig looking as stiff as his demeanor. He looked up from his scribbling and a light smile came upon his face.

"Ah, there you are Colonel, and I see that your fiancé accompanies you," he greeted William, his eyes shifting to Claire, "What might your name be, dear?"

Without looking back at Tavington she stepped forward. "My name is Claire, and it is quite a pleasure to meet you, General," she said clearly and confidently, finishing with a graceful curtsey. She knew that first impressions were quite significant.

"Ah, it is quite a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, my dear, and might I add: it is quite refreshing to know that he will be married to a young women with such class! They do say that opposites attract, so the arrangement has fortunately been quite complimentary…" he finished this with a light chuckle, and bent down to retrieve something from one of his drawers. Tavington clenched his jaw and his eye twitched slightly. Claire saw this.

As his face had dipped down to down more closely into the drawer, Claire placed a hand over her mouth, trying to suppress a giggle from the General's insult. Tavington saw this from the corner of his eye, turned his head, and shot a furious look at Claire. Claire looked innocently up at him, batting her eyes.

"Let's see here, Colonel, I have some documents here I would like you to attend to…here they are!" He straightened up and Tavington walked forward, taking note to dramatically snatch the papers from his superior's hand.

"Thank you," he said tensely and walked back to Claire's side, "I think I will show my fiancé to her accommodations, if that is all you wished to speak to me about," he added.

"Fine, fine, go then, that is all I wanted," Cornwallis replied, "I do hope to see you at dinner, Claire, if you are not too tired from your trip to attend."

"I'm feeling quite fine, General, I believe that I shall go."

As they walked out, Tavington shot her another angry look before striding ahead of her.

"Quite a laugh you two shared," Tavington said.

Claire was silent for a moment, "I was simply trying to be polite. You wouldn't understand that, of course."

Tavington then spun around, grabbed her hand, and pulled her along fiercely, until the rooms came into view. He didn't bother introducing her to anyone else. When they reached her room, he yanked a set of keys from his pocket, opened the door, and practically threw her into the room. In her fear, she didn't catch one characteristic of her room, but turned quickly to face him.

He shut the door behind him and walked up to her, who had backed up until the palms of her hands touched the wall behind her.

"Let me tell you now, Claire," he said fiercely when he was quite close to her, "that I am not in the mood to deal with this right now."

Claire looked up at him, strangely ready to take a hit. She clenched her fists.

"Tell me," William whispered, bringing his face slowly toward hers, so that his warm breath hit her softly, "do you think that just because I am under the watchful eye of Cornwallis, that your protection from me has suddenly increased? Hmm?" He cocked his head, blue eyes gazing into hers.

"Step away from me, William," Claire finally said.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do," William answered sharply, placing a hand on her waist, "I can do whatever I wish with you," he said, bringing a hand up to her neck, gently caressing her collarbone with his thumb.

"Stop it," she whispered.

"Stop what?" he inquired sarcastically, "You know that you enjoy my touch, remember that night when you found me in the woods?"

"You were significantly more gentlemanly than you are now," Claire answered bitterly, "and I didn't wish to anger you." She was surprised at how calm she felt. "I thought you had changed William," she continued, "and then I found out that you were still continuing your horrid acts upon innocent people. _Civilians_, William. How_ could_ you? How could you have the heart to kill so mercilessly?" She felt her voice crack slightly.

Suddenly, William laughed, "So this is where your bitterly cold shoulder originates? So you've heard?" He laughed again, "You are much more naïve than I've thought."

"No, William. Keep your war on the battlefield. Even then, this war is horrible, it's not necessary."

"You should watch what you say about the rebels, Claire. People here may interpret it a bit differently than you may hope."

Claire gazed up at him angrily.

"I thought you possessed some form of mercy," she said.

He leaned closer to her, looking at her mouth, his own lips parted, "I do…for a price."

Claire turned away from him.

Tavington took her chin and turned her head back to him. He smirked, "I want to let you in on a little secret, Claire," he murmured, his lips touching her chin. She tried to turn her head again, but he pulled her back.

Claire suddenly attempted to yank herself away from him, but he was quick and was expecting it. He responded to her action by pushing her against the wall, pinning one of her wrists against it. Clenching his teeth, he dug his knee into her leg like he had done that day in the fields. Claire cried out in pain, struggling for a moment more, but the pain forced her to fall into submission.

He finally took his knee from her leg and his features relaxed. Pressing his fist into the wall to ensure that her pinned hand wouldn't move, he leaned closely to her again, a smile beginning to form upon his face.

"That's better, Claire," he said softly, and he grabbed her other wrist, which was at her side, "Now, as I was saying…"

Claire looked at him, terror in her eyes. She had a good feeling he was about to break her wrist.

He brought up her hand, his strong fingers moving to the palm, "You see your hand, my love? All the fingers that accompany it? What countless abilities our hands give us, though sometimes we may take them for granted. This may very easily connect with my view toward my authority once our marriage has been affirmed."

He ran a finger over her knuckles, but looked deeply into her eyes, "Every time you try to counterattack me, you may imagine taking out one of your very own fingers…"

He then brought her hand to his mouth, paused for a moment, and then ran his lips over her thumb. Claire whimpered. He then began to kiss the tips of each of her fingers, lightly closing his eyes.

"Every. Act. Leads. To. A. Consequence," he said between kisses. He lingered over her thumb, "In other words, the more you rebel, the more privileges I take from you come our days married. If I see that you will act disobedient in an excess, I will see to it that your activities in our marriage will be greatly limited."

"Aren't women already forced to endure that in marriage?" she asked quietly.

Tavington brought his eyes back to her face and pinned her other wrist to the wall, "Then you possibly couldn't imagine would that would be like, would you, my love?"

He finally released her wrists and backed away from her as she stepped away from the wall. Tavington looked at her for a moment with his hands behind his back, a look of satisfaction upon his face, as if he had taught her a revolutionary concept.

Then, he turned and made his way to the door, "I do hope I see you at dinner, Claire," he said in an altered voice as he attempted to mock his superior and he laughed. He exited and a great silence filled the room.

**Author's Note:** I am so sorry that I didn't update for a long time. There's a lot going on. I hoped you liked this chapter and please review!!! Reviewing really, really, really helps me to stay motivated!!!


End file.
